


Crazy Little Thing

by starbuckmeggie



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Marriage, Santos Administration, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23116828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starbuckmeggie/pseuds/starbuckmeggie
Summary: A brief interlude to "Somebody To Love." Suggested to be read after chapter 4, but that story can be read without this chapter.
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	Crazy Little Thing

We’ve been dancing for some time now. We made the obligatory rounds for a while, Josh dancing with CJ and Dr. Bartlet and even Danny’s mom and sister. I’ve danced with Sam and Charlie and President Bartlet and Tom—Danny’s best man—and, of course, Danny himself. So far, while this wedding has been a lot of fun with an intimate crowd and zero reporters, it’s not dissimilar from a lot of the big functions we go to back home in that it feels like I get to spend five minutes with my boyfriend in between the obligations of our positions at social functions.

It took some doing but we’ve managed to make our way to each other and have been lost in our own little bubble for a while. It started off with dancing like two respectable adults who know how to behave in public and devolved into where we are now, which is arms wrapped tightly around each other, bodies pressed impossibly and indecently close, still moving to the music as our hands roam. Considering I had to convince him to join me on the dance floor a little while ago, he’s been a very willing participant ever since.

I take a deep breath, inhaling his scent. He put on a little cologne early this morning—just as he does every morning—making him smell delicious. It’s never overpowering, and it only ever takes a few hours for the cologne to blend in with the rest of him, mixing with the smell of his soap and his general Josh-ness.

His hands clutch at my back, drifting lower from time to time to caress my ass. Normally, I’d make him stop and remind him that not only are we in public, but we’re also in the presence of a former President, but I’ve had just enough wine to not care. I’m not tipsy, but I definitely don’t mind my adorable boyfriend groping me a little.

I bury my face in his neck; his wonderful smell is even more intense there. I’m vaguely aware that we’re being borderline inappropriate, if nothing else because we’ve been so self-involved for the last…who knows how long. I just never get to dance with Josh, especially not like this. Up until the last nine or so months, if we got to dance together it was strictly professional. The moment it so much as hinted at something personal, we’d somehow always separate and find someone else to dance with. Since being together, while we’ve had quite a few functions where we’ve been able to dance without concern of outward appearances, we’re lucky if it’ll be for two songs the entire night. This trip to California has meant we get to be an actual couple around a big group of friends. It’s kind of novel. We’ve had the option to dance with other people, and we’ve done that, but we’ve really taken advantage of being able to dance with each other. We’ve taken advantage of doing all the regular couple things that can feel so far removed at home. Either our arms are around each other or we’re holding hands at just about every moment. We’re kissing like no one is watching. It’s very freeing, even though we’ve had more than one person from our past mention that it’s disconcerting for them to see us act like this.

Somehow, Josh presses his body closer and I can’t help but inhale sharply; I can feel him pushing against my lower stomach, leaving no doubt about his physical state right now. He’s been insatiable the last few days. I suppose we’ve both been fairly insatiable, really. It’s not that we’re deprived of sex at home, either, but this trip out here has felt a bit reminiscent of our vacation in Hawaii. Despite the constant activity of helping to get this wedding organized, it’s been very relaxing, and when Josh doesn’t have work to focus on, all that extra energy typically gets directed to certain parts of my anatomy.

“Somebody wants to play,” I whisper into his ear, giggling a little despite myself. He just tightens his arms around me, and I shudder at the sensation of his arousal against me.

“I want you so bad,” he mumbles, pressing his lips to my ear. I want him, too. Unfortunately, I don’t think there’s any way we can sneak off to our hotel for an hour or so; traveling with an armed escort has its privileges and while they can be very subtle and innocuous, the sudden absence of their presence can wind up being fairly conspicuous.

He pulls back a little so he can see me, his eyes at half-mast and darker than usual. He gives me a lazy, undeniably sexy smile and leans in, kissing me thoroughly. I let myself get lost in him for a few long moments. I don’t want us to make a spectacle of ourselves at our friends’ wedding, but kissing him still makes me tingle all over.

“Can I proposition you?” he breathes against my lips.

“You can always proposition me,” I assure him, grinning before giving him another kiss.

“No, seriously.”

I lean back a little, searching his face. He doesn’t seem to be joking. “You’re not kidding.”

“I want you _so bad_ ,” he repeats, tightening his grip around my waist.

“ _Now?_ ” I whisper, glancing around to make sure no one might be able to overhear us.

“Now would be good.”

“Josh…I mean, we could go back to our room for a little while.” It really will be conspicuous as hell but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

“No.”

“No?”

“Here.”

“On the dance floor?!”

He grins at me, his shoulders shaking a little as he chuckles. “No.” He leans in and kisses me, pressing his forehead against mine. These shoes I’m wearing for the wedding almost made me taller than him. He’s been fascinated by this all day. “While you were off doing maid of honor things with CJ earlier, I wandered around a lot. Poked my head in some places. This is a very large structure and it has a lot of closets and rooms that don’t seem to be in use.”

My heart skips a couple of beats. “You want to do it _here?_ ”

He somehow grins even more broadly. “Yup.”

“You don’t think people might…notice?”

“Notice what? That yet another couple has sneaked away for a few minutes? I don’t think anyone is keeping attendance.”

I have to admit that I’m more than a little intrigued. “You really think we could get away with it?”

There’s a twinkle in his eye, that look he gets when he knows he’s won something. It’s more often reserved for the political battlefield than for situations involving me, but it’s definitely not the first time in the past ten months I’ve been on the receiving end of it. “I don’t think it’d be a problem. Besides,” he pauses, grinning sheepishly, “I don’t think it’ll take very long.”

What is it about that confession that turns me on so much? It has to be knowing just how turned on _he_ is by the very thought of sneaking away and having sex. We haven’t done much like this since we got together, not after disappearing in the middle of Election Day last year to have sex. Our vacation to Hawaii had a couple of nearly exhibitionist moments, but all things considered, we’ve been fairly tame since settling into our routine at home. Not that sex has been tame, but our most risqué location since then has been getting busy during a work trip that managed to include both of us.

I bite my lip for a few moments, tilting my head at him as I consider all the possibilities. I know we could get caught, but that doesn’t really deter me. I’m feeling the pull myself, and all I’ve wanted for hours is the chance to devour Josh. “I’m in,” I finally answer.

His eyes go wide for a fraction of a second, like he can’t believe I actually agreed to do it, but he quickly transitions into his wonderfully cocky smile, managing to make it look like this was all a foregone conclusion. His face drops a few moments later, his forehead crinkling, and though he doesn’t like to believe I can read him like a book or that he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve, I’m pretty sure I know what he’s thinking.

I lean in, putting my lips close to his ear. “There are a couple of condoms in your jacket pocket. Inside.”

One of his hands flies to the pocket, a shocked expression on his face when he finds them. “How did you… _when_ did you…you know what? I don’t want to know.” He takes a step back and grabs my hand, leading me slowly across the dance floor. Other than a few people maybe making a brief mental note about us wandering off, I think the maneuver is very casual and not worthy of scrutiny. He glances over his shoulder at me, shaking his head in wonder, and I just shrug.

I’ve taken to carrying a few condoms around with me at all times; initially, I think it was the hope that we’d have wild sex somewhere completely inappropriate, but now it’s become a habit. Most times, I shove them somewhere on Josh’s person—either in a pocket of his jacket or somewhere in his oft-present backpack—and he’s none the wiser. Objectively, I like to have them on hand, too, in case, in a situation like this, someone else is in need and wants to have safe sex, but mostly I hold out the hope that Josh will want to sneak off somewhere with me.

Not unlike this very moment.

We reach the top of the stairs, the door falling shut behind us, and everything is suddenly almost eerily quiet. The air feels cooler, making me shiver a little. Josh looks at me again, his eyebrows lifting in question, silently asking me if I still want to do this. I squeeze his fingers in return and that seems to be all the answer he needs. I let him lead me through the building even though I doubt he really knows where he’s going. Direction isn’t usually his strong suit. Of course, if he found a small space and immediately thought of sex, he’s probably turned into a bloodhound.

Sure enough, another flight of stairs and a couple of twists and turns later, he’s tentatively pushing open a door and sticking his head in. When he deems it safe he gently pulls me in behind him. I glance around the small area, which seems to be a supply closet of sorts—paper towels, soaps, toilet paper, nothing that’s probably pressing right now—but the room is dark, illuminated by a single window. It must be east-facing because the sky only seems to have a few wisps of color—

My thoughts are interrupted when I’m pressed against the door, Josh attacking my mouth a moment later. I moan as I wrap my arms around his shoulders, holding him tight to me. One of my hands strays to his hair, my fingers tugging at the unruly locks at the back of his head. “You need a haircut,” I mumble.

“Yes, dear,” he answers sarcastically, his voice muffled as he tries to kiss me senseless. I just smile, though, because I love this part; even though we’re so filled with passion and lust and desire, this random bit of normalcy pops out in the middle of it all. It speaks to a level of intimacy and comfort that I’ve never had with another person.

He moves from my lips a few minutes later, kissing his way down my neck. I revel in the sensation—Josh is an incredibly skilled kisser, able to make me tremble regardless of where he puts his lips—until his cheek scrapes against my skin. Granted, his stubble makes me shiver, too, but I don’t remember him shaving this morning so he feels especially bristly. My skin is fair enough that it doesn’t take a lot of effort for anyone or anything to leave marks, but I’ve had to wear more turtle necks and scarves since getting together with Josh than I ever have before in my life. Though it’s usually easier than trying to find a plausible explanation for why I look burned other than my boyfriend is horny.

I grab his cheeks, dislodging him. “Josh, you’re giving me stubble burn. Everyone will know what we’re doing.”

He huffs out a mock-disgruntled sigh. “You’re really killing the spontaneity of it all, woman.” Before I can respond, he moves back to my mouth, focusing his attention there. My hands go to the buttons of his shirt, pulling them open as quickly as I can—I’m assuming it’s about to get hot and stuffy in here and he’d probably rather his nice shirt wasn’t drenched with sweat. He shrugs out of the shirt a moment later, taking his jacket with it, and they hit the ground with a soft _whoosh_. He immediately grabs the skirt of my dress, pushing it up until I feel his hands on my hips. He wastes no time tugging at my underwear, his lips parting from mine as he drops into a squat in front of me, taking the panties with him.

I brace one hand on his shoulder, stepping out of them carefully because the last thing I want to do is have a clumsy moment and fall over, causing a racket and alerting the whole place to what we’re doing in here. I open my mouth to tell him not to fling my underwear into parts unknown but before the words can form, his head disappears under my dress, his hands ease my thighs apart, and then his mouth is on me.

“Oh, my God,” I moan, my eyes falling shut and my head landing against the door with a thump.

“Donna!” he exclaims quietly, pulling his head out from under my dress. “We gotta be quiet!”

My hips thrust toward him involuntarily. “Josh, don’t stop.”

He makes a face at me but disappears under the dress again, wasting no time in making contact. I bite my lip and squeak, my arm reaching out to brace on something and finding a supply shelf nearby to do the trick.

Out of all the ideas I had about this in just the last few minutes, it never once occurred to me that Josh would want to go down on me.

Believe me when I say that I’m not upset by it.

His tongue moves against me a lot more slowly than I would expect considering the precarious situation we’re in at the moment, but that doesn’t offend me, either. Oral sex is a special gift Josh has and is something he’s very fond of performing, so I’ve definitely gotten to the point where I assume there’s a method to his madness. Of course, he also knows by this point that being fast isn’t the only the way get an orgasm out of me. He’s managed to surprise me on more than one occasion by doing nothing more than the same slow, steady motion the entire time, leading to some of the most intense orgasms I’ve ever had. Just another reason why he’s the best boyfriend _and_ the best sex I’ve ever had—he really and truly pays attention to me in all situations. I’m sure because he knows me so well is why we’re so good at this part.

I feel a moan bubbling out of me and I purse my lips as I try to muffle it. My back presses against the door as my hips push forward, trying to get closer to his magic mouth. His hands slide from my hips to my ass, squeezing me tightly and also changing the angle. I can feel his mouth open to cover more area, his tongue flicking against me when he’s not sucking at me, forming a vacuum that makes my head spin.

I’m definitely seeing stars right now.

I glance down, almost surprised for a moment when I can’t see him. There’s something really erotic about him being hidden from view like this. When we do this at home, there aren’t usually blankets involved—everything is out in the open. There’s something about this that makes it all sort of mysterious.

Still…I like to watch him. That can be even more of a turn on for me. I grab the bottom of my dress and pull it up, a wall of heat actually billowing out from under it. Josh’s face is tinged with pink, sweat dotting his forehead, obvious even in the dim light. He looks up at me, his eyes dark and intense, and I gasp. The hand I’d been using to brace myself on the shelf grabs the back of his head, holding him to me. My knees buckle in response but he just tightens his grip on my ass, keeping me upright. Objectively, I don’t like holding him in place like this because it’s not all that different than if I were giving him a blowjob and he forced my head down on him, something he’s fortunately not done. I suppose the upside is that he’s not in danger of choking, and even though I’ve apologized for it after, he always tells me he doesn’t mind.

My eyes roll back in my head and I gasp. My hips move against his mouth quickly, straining for a conclusion. I gasp again, trying to keep my voice down, though I’m not sure how much longer that’s possible.

“I’m gonna come,” I whisper, trying to prepare him for the storm. “Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come.”

He responds by holding me tighter, his face buried completely between my thighs, and the world suddenly explodes around me. I release his head and clamp my hand over my mouth, only partially successful in stifling myself. I push against him, feeling wave after wave of bliss wash over me. He grips onto my ass, his fingers digging into me hard enough to leave marks, but he doesn’t let up. His tongue moves against me furiously as my hips buck. I can suddenly hear a ringing in my ears. My legs really do give out, and I’m only upright because of Josh’s grip on me. I bite down on my hand, trying desperately not to yell.

Then just like that, he lets up, sitting back on his heels. He looks up at me, breathing heavily, a thoroughly satisfied look on his face. I smile at him as best as I can, but truthfully, I’m too busy trying to regroup to do much more than that. He leans in, pressing a kiss to my thigh, his tongue darting out against me. He travels up, pressing a series of slow kisses to my lower abdomen, and I can feel my muscles quiver in response. He stands up a moment later, pressing his body close to mine. He reaches over to the supply shelf and yanks a paper towel off one of the rolls, dabbing first at his forehead then smirking at me as he wipes his mouth. He takes it as a sign of his virility when he feels that I’m wetter than usual.

“Look,” I manage to say, still trying to catch my breath, “just because you’re a sloppy eater…”

He snorts and presses his mouth to mine. “I love it when you talk dirty,” he whispers.

I roll my eyes, grabbing his arms to hold him tight. I dig my fingers into his muscles, reveling in the feel of them. He’s not super buff—he doesn’t have time for that kind of attention and to be completely honest, I’m not a big fan of the bulging biceps. I’m perfectly happy with regular biceps—but he has nicely defined muscles. His shoulders in particular often do me in. I have no real explanation or excuse for it. I just think he’s sexy. I do, however, like to feel him up whenever possible.

He bites at my lip, tugging at it before he thrusts his tongue into my mouth, the oddly intriguing flavor of myself mixed with him invading my senses. One of his arms wraps around my waist, pulling me flush against his erection. His other hand disappears beneath my dress, his fingers dancing against my overly-sensitive flesh. I shudder against him, squirming as he makes contact. I push him away then, my hands going to his belt buckle before he can protest. I pull it open and carefully as possible pull down the zipper of his fly. He groans anyway, his eyes falling shut for a few seconds as my fingers brush over him. My hips move in time with his fingers as I struggle to push his pants and boxers over his hips, sighing with satisfaction as he springs free. I bring a hand up to my mouth, licking it thoroughly before I wrap it around his erection, pumping him slowly. His eyes grow wide and I can feel myself grinning devilishly at his reaction. It’s only fair at this point.

“We need one of those condoms, honey,” I whisper, but neither of us makes a move to retrieve it. Our hands are far too busy to be bothered with anything else right now. My hips push toward him; he’s a master of what I like to think of as misdirected contact. After I’ve had an orgasm, if the intent is to go for another round, he makes very little direct contact with anything of mine that might be too sensitive. He focuses his attention on all the areas around it, the areas than can deal with a bit more stimulation without it being painful as he works on getting me primed for another round. It’s quite magnificent. At the moment, though, I think I could handle a bit more direct stimulus. I move my hand against him faster, enjoying the way he feels, how hot his skin is, how deliciously firm he is, and the anticipatory knowledge of what he’s going to feel like moving within me. It’s almost enough to make me implode.

He must be thinking along the same lines because he pulls out of my grasp then, effectively dislodging his own wandering fingers in the process. He breathes heavily as he stoops down, grabbing his jacket from the floor. I watch in amusement, my eyes heavy-lidded as he digs through the pockets to find the condoms. He wastes no time in tearing open a package and rolling it down his length, something that’s always fun for me to watch. He steps into me, pushing up my dress again, and I feel him rubbing against me. He looks…lost for a few moments, probably trying to figure out the logistics of this. I reach out and grab the shelf again, pressing my back firmly against the door. I stand up as straight as I can and lift my right leg, wrapping it around his waist. He immediately grabs onto my thigh, helping to hold me up. His other hand disappears between us and second later I can feel him pushing into me. I sigh, my eyes falling shut at the sensation; there really is nothing quite like it. He gives a couple of gentle thrusts, filling me completely, and his forehead falls into my neck. I wrap my free arm around his shoulder, hoping to keep myself upright for this little endeavor.

I can hear him breathing heavily, his gasps sounding labored and almost painful. I stroke the damp hair at the back of his neck, smiling as I wait for Josh to collect himself. I can’t believe we’re really doing this—having sex in a supply closet at our friends’ wedding while an entire gaggle of people we know is dancing and drinking not two floors below us. We have to be crazy.

Sometimes I think I am, at least when it comes to Josh. All of the rules I’ve had for myself my entire life change when it comes to him. I suppose “no sex in public” is a fairly common rule most people abide by, but everything with Josh is different; it always has been.

He shifts his hips, pulling out of me a little before easing back in and I let out a sigh of satisfaction. Even that one moment is better than sex with most other people, and when he really gets going, there’s absolutely no comparison. He does that move a few more times, almost like he’s testing the waters, before he slams into me. My eyes fly open and I clutch at his shoulder as I gasp into his ear. “Okay?” he grunts, slamming into me again.

“Mhhhhh,” I moan, trying to muffle the sound of my voice. “Okay” is an understatement. He shifts my leg higher around his waist and starts ramming into me in a steady pace, my back knocking against the door with every motion. “Oh, G _od_ ,” I say, grinding my teeth in an effort to keep my voice down. “Don’t stop.”

His hand slides off my waist and under my dress, grabbing my ass. He pulls me toward him with every thrust, making me tingle from head to toe. Our mouths meet, kissing in an effort to stay as quiet as possible. He shows no mercy as he pounds into me, and I wouldn’t want him to. This feels unbelievable.

Yet another previous rule of mine that is different with Josh. I was never into rough sex before being with him. Of course, “rough” isn’t really the best way to describe it. We don’t throw each other around or anything, but to say we can be aggressive with each other is fair. There’s never any danger with it and we don’t have safe words—if it’s too much, we simply say so—but on more than one occasion, I’ve ridden him with an abandon I didn’t know I possessed. He’s definitely let loose with me more than once or twice since we’ve been together, pounding into me in a way that might be painful if it were anyone else. It’s all absolutely amazing and wonderfully freeing. I love that we can physically express how crazy we drive each other.

He groans into my mouth, the sound loud despite our best efforts. We knock against the door rhythmically, and a very deep part of my brain acknowledges we might need to quiet it down if we don’t want to get caught. I feel my dress bunching around my waist and unravel my arm from his neck, pulling it out of the way so it doesn’t get caught between us.

My eyes fly open at the thought of my dress and my complete lack of desire for it be covered in sex stains. I push at Josh’s shoulder and he pulls his head back, watching me through hazy eyes as his hips pound into me. “Josh,” I whisper. “We have to stop.”

It takes a few second but his eyes grow wide as his rhythm falters. “Huh? Why?”

“Change positions,” I clarify, gasping for air. “We’re going to ruin my dress.”

He blinks at me a few times, my words not entirely registering. “Huh?” he asks again, making me smile.

“We’re going to ruin my dress if we keep doing it this way.”

“Can’t you take it off?”

“I would, but I can’t put it on by myself and I don’t think you’re the person to help me with that.” Sad but true; Josh is _very_ good at undressing me, but putting my clothes back on? He has no interest. I pat his hand holding my thigh and unravel my leg, feeling a little empty as he steps back and pulls out of me. I shake my legs out a little, leaning in carefully to give him a quick kiss. I turn toward the door and I think I hear him make a noise of protest. I hike up the skirt, effectively silencing him, and bend over, bracing my hands on the door. “This’ll be better.”

He squeaks, and I would laugh at the reaction if I didn’t think I was on the verge of combusting. His hands slide over my ass, squeezing carefully, though I can tell that he’s shaking. His fingers run over me reverently, his light touch electrifying me. I can feel sparks coursing through me and my need for him almost makes my brain explode. My head is swimming; all that exists is him.

“Donna,” he whispers. I can see him move out of my peripheral vision, watching him crouch down, and before I can react, his mouth is on me again. My eyes roll back in my head and I definitely moan loudly enough to draw attention, at least if there’s anyone in the vicinity. My hips thrust toward the contact and he grabs onto my thighs, holding me mostly in place. I don’t know that I can stress just how unbelievable he is at this. Every single time he does it, it gets better. He’s extraordinarily generous with it, too, which, prior to him, wasn’t my experience with men. I certainly had boyfriends who would do it, but usually because they wanted a blowjob in return. Josh does it because he seems to think he “can’t keep up” with me and wants to make me come as many times as possible. But not just that; we’ll be in the middle of sex and he’ll pull on my hips to drag me up his body until I’m sitting on his face, all because he likes to please me. He’ll say it’s to give himself a fighting chance to last longer, but he just likes to make me happy. That’s all he seems to want most of the time, and sometimes, in his mind, happiness and orgasms go hand in hand.

He sucks me into his mouth, his tongue flicking over me quickly, and my legs almost collapse. Without any other warning, I feel an explosion rocket through me and I gasp, desperately trying to hold back my yells of satisfaction as my thighs clamp over Josh’s head. He doesn’t protest, though; he just moves his tongue over me faster and faster until I think I’m going to pass out and then stops abruptly. He still has a hold of my hips so I don’t collapse and he plants a few open-mouth kisses on my ass before he stands. I can feel him between my thighs, his erection rubbing lightly over me. “Ready?” he asks softly, and this time I do laugh, mostly because it seems like there can’t be any doubt to just how ready I am.

“Yes,” I answer, though it definitely comes out as a moan. One of his hands moves between us and he guides himself in, and I let out a long, shaky breath at the sensation. My insides tingle. He fills me completely, rubbing against all my hotspots. Any time we have sex in this position, I’m guaranteed an orgasm that has nothing to do with exterior stimulation.

“This isn’t going to take me much longer,” he says, his voice tinged with regret.

“Yeah, well, me either.” He pauses and I turn my head to look over my shoulder, trying to shake my hair off my neck. “Feel free to let it go to your ego.”

He grins, reaching up to brush my hair away for me and as it falls next to my face, I’m momentarily aware of how desperately it needs to be cut. It’s a lot longer than I usually let it grow, falling halfway down my back, like it suddenly hit a growth spurt. I mostly only let it stay this length because I thought it might work as a maid of honor. I need to make an appointment when we get home, but the problem will be with finding time between work and classes to keep the appointment, and that’s been the issue for months.

His hand fists in the hair at the base of my skull suddenly, tugging it gently, but we’ve both discovered it only needs a little pull to feel amazing. His hips move against me slowly and I respond in kind, savoring the moment.

His other hand slides off my hip and down to my stomach, caressing me. Then, he starts jackhammering into me, driving into me over and over and over. I press my face against my bicep, trying to stifle whatever guttural sound wants to escape me. I can hear him grunt with each thrust, the hand tangled in my hair never pulling to the point of pain. The sound of skin smacking together fills their air, erotic in its own way.

I whimper, bracing my hands as hard as I can against the door. I can feel him rubbing against all my spots, stoking the already-blazing fire that’s raging within me. The hand on my stomach slides in between my thighs, pressing against me lightly, and my knees buckle for a few moments. I don’t need the assistance but it feels pretty amazing anyway.

He lets go of my hair then, wrapping his arm around my waist. I feel his stomach against my lower back and turn my head so I can see him over my shoulder. His skin is shiny with sweat, his jaw set as he clenches his teeth in an effort to stay quiet, and it’s only then that I realize our lack of vocals is making all this even more exciting. The fact that we’re holding back in this way, trying to keep ourselves quiet so we don’t get caught, isn’t something we’ve ever experienced before. It makes my already pounding heart work even harder to keep up.

He eyes meet mine and we smile simultaneously. My mouth drops open as a very quiet moan falls out and I clench my inner muscles around him, making him groan in response. This whole thing is crazy and dangerous and probably very stupid and I wouldn’t do it with anyone but him. “I love you, Josh,” I whisper.

He responds by moving his hips faster and it only takes a few more thrusts before I feel myself flying apart. “Ohhh, ohhh, _ohhhhhhh_ ,” I groan, unable to help myself and not even sure how loud it is. I lose control of my body as it jerks and spasms. Josh collapses against my back, burying his face as close to my neck as he can as he tries to muffles his own sounds of release.

We push unevenly against each other for a few long moments as orgasms wash over us, my head spinning with the intensity of it all. Never mind that it’s my third orgasm in a very short period of time; I don’t know how I’m even going to function for the rest of the night.

“I love you, too,” he manages to mumble, his hips thrusting a few more times before I feel his knees start to collapse. I let myself drop with him, keeping him inside of me for as long as I can. I’m definitely experiencing some aftershocks and need him to get me through it. His arms stay tightly wrapped around me, one hand still pressing gently between my thighs, and if I thought it wouldn’t make me actually die, I’d see if I could try for an almost record-breaking fourth orgasm.

I look over my shoulder to see he’s already waiting, and he presses his lips against mine. I reach up and hold onto the back of his head, keeping him in place as we kiss each other thoroughly. Even though I know we have to get back to the reception before our absence becomes cause for speculation, I never want this moment to end. Everything in me is tingling pleasantly, letting me know that even though I’ve just been well and truly fucked, he somehow managed to make love to me at the same time. It’s amazing how the two things can exist simultaneously, but with the right person, I suppose anything is possible.

I move my hips against him gently, trying to prolong the sensations for as long as possible. He smiles against my mouth, rubbing my stomach slowly, and just like that, a feeling of lethargy settles over me. My limbs feel like they weigh a thousand pounds each. Our lips part and I press my forehead against his. “Wow,” I whisper.

“Yeah,” he agrees, finally removing his hand from between my legs and wrapping his arms firmly around me.

“You know we’re insane, right?”

He chuckles. “What do you mean? Because we snuck off in the middle of a wedding to have sex in a closet where anyone could find us? You qualify _that_ as insane?”

I smile in return and lean in to give him another kiss before I pat his hands. “Okay—time to get moving.”

“No,” he whines, burying his face in my neck. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Josh, if we don’t get up now, a few more minutes will turn into someone finding us passed out in the closet. Come on.” With Herculean effort I force myself off of him, stretching my body out as I try to work out the kinks.

“Can’t we just go back to our hotel?” he asks, and I can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s pouting.

“Josh, come on. We’re leaving in the morning and we never get to see most of these people.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He sighs and forces himself to his feet, grabbing another paper towel off the shelf. I hear the sound of plastic snapping and assume he’s tying off the condom. Meanwhile, I drop down to my knees, patting the floor and nearly panicking until I find my underwear shoved most of the way under a shelf. He grabs his shirt from the floor, not at all ashamed to be ogling me as I carefully step into my panties, trying not to topple over—between my shaky knees and the tall, thin heels of my shoes, it’s no easy feat. I try to ignore him and the look he’s giving me as I smooth down my dress, hoping like hell I didn’t manage to get it too wrinkled.

“How do I look?” I finally ask.

His expression softens. “You look gorgeous.”

“Josh,” I groan.

“What? You look beautiful. I’m allowed to tell you that.” He finishes buttoning his shirt and tucks it into his pants, looking almost as good as new as he buckles his belt.

“I just meant…do I look all…disheveled?”

“You look amazing,” he whispers and I sigh. I’m not going to get a straight answer out of him. He’s looking at me through sex goggles right now. He steps into me, his hands on my hips, and he kisses me gently. “I love you.”

Like I can resist that. I mold myself to him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and dragging my fingers through the still-damp hair at the nape of his neck. He kisses me slowly and I allow myself to get lost in him for a few more moments before we go back to reality. “I love you, too,” I finally whisper. I give him one more kiss and step out of his arms. “I have to find a bathroom and get myself cleaned up.”

“Okay. I’ll come with—”

“You absolutely will not,” I interrupt. “You follow me into another secluded room and who knows what’ll happen. We’ll find separate bathrooms and make ourselves presentable and meet back at the party. Okay?”

He makes a face, but I can tell he understands the validity of my argument. “Fine. But get out of here now before I drag you back to the hotel whether you like it or not.”

I grin and press my lips to his once more. Then I sigh and smooth my hair down, pulling the door open a crack. The hallway looks fairly abandoned and considering we’re a couple of floors up from the reception, that’s not terribly surprising. I’m sure I can find a bathroom somewhere on this floor. I pull the door open enough to slide through and just before I can pull it shut behind, Josh pinches my ass. I let out a loud squeak but manage to not give him the satisfaction of looking back.

I’ll make him pay for that later.

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps a little OOC, perhaps not. Hard to say. At any rate, here it is. Thank you for all the support you guys showed last time. It really meant a lot to me. Also, my laptop is falling apart now so wheee!


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